A deliberate attempt to control adequacy

I. Mission Control

ten
We start counting down the ways from ten
That we control every little thing around us
It controls us, no doubt, and we lie to ourselves
The remote becomes the comfort blanket
nine
when we see that the only comfort we can seek lies
in infomercials and blog spots
there is no way that we can ever clean them,
even if we add one to the other.
Billy Mays could sell a mac to a pc
and a windows to a linux.
eight
Running at optimum capacity
systems that run smooth. Fans and glass
replacing the wind and water
nothing natural. nothing natural
we see nothing outside of our monitors
and unfortunately for us, we are stuck thinking inside the box
seven
we speed up now. upon the monitor’s unblinking gaze we
see how the might and fury of flat-backed
hooligans, those internet ruffians deliver unto us the
true feel of love. Nothing ever sold so well as a
promise of complete happiness and bliss amongst peers.
Counting down. Ignition.
six
a silence. a silence.
and then, Crescendo! the hall fills with
the rising sound of sentient life! Fingers upon keys
The Brass Flares! The Woodwinds Whine!
The Strings swell and fill the hall with the indomitable and resolute
promise of violence and the digital hereafter!
five
sweat does drip and drip and rip and dip
all upon your face
when staring at your plasma screen,
on eBay buying lingerie and lace
to fill your house with trinkets and codswallop
and useless inane and asinine
front end-loaders and sour cream (but just a dollop)
but why stop there? Why stop there indeed?
We need more and more and more
Or how else will we plant the seed?
four
the spiral effect of dive-bombing doves and
pigeons know how to make your head grow
around that which you cannot live without
contemporary man has no need for the past; all he needs is to stand on the shoulders of those before him. Make him man. Make him god.
Those contributions, those technological contributions, those gadgets and gizmos
And new age mythos
Those letters from doctor Spock, hand free from needless spanking
It becomes clearer and clearer who gets the banking
rolls by using this automation and money back guarantees
(don’t worry; soon we’ll all be 100% human free!)
three
we wind ourselves down and up like a watch
whose function we have yet to figure out
who needs a calendar, stopwatch, laser pointer,
remote, garage opener, can opener, can recycler, nuclear fusion reactor,
decompression chamber, and automatic juicer in their watch?
Well, I suppose the juicer would be nice.
The degrees of separation are as various as our degrees
of killing ourselves with kindness.
two
This is our digital age. Our digital revolution
I had a gigapet when I was a child. When it came time to put it down
all that was required was that I put it down. Sometimes it’s easiest to pick
up a child’s toys in the morning.
meander to the desk. click. click. click. click. click. click.
this site makes me grumpy. So grumpy
but this one makes me happy. So happy
and this one makes me sleepy. So sleepy
and this one makes me dopey. So dopey
and this one makes me bashful. So bashful
and this one makes me sneezy. So sneezy
hmm, these symptoms certainly will send me to the doctor.
right Doc?
one
spiraling in a web, halcyon red and blues and whites and greens
it is so easy to find Lolcats and movie quotations, but what about
it is so easy to find ourselves wrapped in our technological bundle.
Do you sync?
Everything should sync.
In this world of digital mechanics
and analog components it is good to know
that when it comes to sync or swim, we can finally let ourselves sync.
One. By. One.


II. The Sheer Audacity

creak one leaky eye open on a Sunday morning
only to have a head full of throb and an ear
full of static
the music is too loud, I want to scream
the music is too loud
turning over into a puddle (was that there last night?)
a puddle not involving a girl with a pixie-cut and a man with a sweater-vest
the music is too loud
but wait…there is no music. Where does the infernal racket come from?
the television is on, but…where is the sound?
the computer is flashing, but…where is the sound?
Stumbling to the mirror it is easy to see that throughout the night you have been attached
to your source of pain.
two thin white cords spill from your ears
and in between them a small pillbox. Medicine, they say. Medicine.
One for the doctor and one for the patient
One for the soldier in the camp where he’s stationed
One for the sailor, on rolling seas
One for the pastor, ill at his ease
A jerk. A hard yank. Silence. Silence.
now the song that was playing over and over is launched into
digital orbit surrounding your bed
in one ear and out the other?
not in this lifetime, said the voice in your head.
Not for all of the tea in china, or on the hearts of those who implore
nor on the blackest of smiles lying on Poe’s Plutonian Shore
pull your boxers up, boyo
there’s much to be done today.
Put those hoses back to your ears and rest assured that you will encounter
things that will test your moral fiber and defibrillate your self-esteem
but the thin white noose hanging around your neck assures you
that the comradery and violence circling the outskirts of your own universe
will never be able to silence the decibels screaming inside your own head


III. The Old Man and the C:

what do we save? Where do the little little things in our lives
that we save to aesthetic memory go when we sleep?
children have the greatest knowledge of when to click and when to save
but their memories are short. shorter than their little legs and little fingers that
pry into the deep
recesses of the widest web. Social webs with little spiders crawling
and sprawling across your screen. The children keep
tabs open and browsers full of the things that most keep their attention.
But what does
grab and
nab and
poke and
pull
the attention of the little spiders, on the shores of the C:
eventually crashing the waves upon their little feet

Search and rescue bars for the children lost to
the generations between. Gen X? no. Gen Y? no.
Do they get into the surf, the digital surf, and find out fatefully the undertow?
Where do these children go when those waves come crashing on their feet?

A lot of candid paragraphs can be written, through the impersonal and lackluster
Films on the web, but where do these children go? Where do they, where do they go?
In a world where wireless supplants dial-up, the span
of time that it takes to grasp the children’s attention and run with it, run far away
until the only question left to ask is “where did they go? Where, where did they go?”
they compose their songs and play and cast their pods into the sea
the sea. the sea.
where did they go? Where, where did they go?

Electronic Fiction: A New Means of Publication

The most difficult task of a writer is publication. A writer may write a brilliant piece of work that never reaches the public simply because it is so difficult to get work published. Because so many writers concentrate on writing fiction, the field is large but extremely selective and difficult to enter into. As a fiction writer myself, I constantly worry about finding a way to get my work published. Entering the field of written fiction publication, especially in print, is difficult to say the least. However, as technology has grown and progressed rapidly in the last couple of decades, writers are finding a new way to make themselves known in the fiction world.
Electronic fiction, or hypertext, is becoming more and more widespread in the world today. As technology progresses, more and more people are using electronic sources like the Internet to access information. Because of this, many people fear that the actual printed novel will eventually be obsolete. Robert Coover, in an article entitled “The End of Books,” discusses this matter. He argues that originally, the novel’s appeal came in “the line,” or the regimented task of reading words on a page from left to write, top to bottom. Further, he states, “True freedom from the tyranny of the line is perceived as only really possible now at last with the advent of hypertext, written and read on the computer, where the line in fact does not exist unless one invents and implants it in the text” (3). Coover is suggesting that hypertext gives both the writer and his or her audience more freedom. This freedom can be translated more effectively to the reader.
Writing electronically gives an author more creative freedom visually as well as artistically. Instead of plain black words on a white piece of paper, a writer can add visuals, graphics, sounds, and colors to his or her work in an electronic publication. This keeps the reader interested. Many people dread reading simply because they find it boring to stare at the same words on the same page through an entire novel. If readers are given graphics and animations, they may possibly be more focused, interested, and intrigued by the piece they are reading.
Publishing electronically makes it easier for writers to get their work out into the world. When writers finish a novel in print, they have to send it to publishing companies and hope that a company accepts their work enough to publish it. If a writer finishes a work they hope to get published in today’s society, they can upload it to the Internet and begin advertising their site. This makes it easier for the writer to begin to make a name for himself or herself and still allows the writer to begin sending their written work to publishing companies in hopes of being published.
Submitting work both in print and electronically is the safest and most technologically savvy way for today’s writers to make a name for themselves. If writers want to keep up with the fast paced technological world, they must learn to write electronically. The benefits of electronic publication are numerous and the possibilities are immense.

Imaged obtained from http://www.wunderland.com/EBooks/Ebooks.html